


that none do slacken; none can die

by orphan_account



Series: yoi filth [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Barebacking, M/M, Morning Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 19:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9563003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: katsuki yuuri wakes up one morning and isreally fucking thirsty





	

**Author's Note:**

> i got my tax notice and decided that writing filth for the first time in 2+ years was an appropriate response*. 
> 
> inspired by [two](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/resources/learning/core-poems/detail/44129) [of](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/44104) rev. john donne's ~~sex~~ love poems.

The air is suffused pale gold; thin honey on Viktor's eyelashes, the slope of his nose, pooling in the indent in his shoulder. A sigh pushes itself out of Yuuri's lungs, a silent exhale, and he stretches his arm up and out from where it’s been bent, his hand curled against Viktor's bare chest; in that same motion arching his back in a stretch, which slides the head of his cock, half-quiescent, against the divot in of Viktor's abdomen. The short, barely visible hairs scattered on the skin there feel — the feeling of them, against him is ... Yuuri is abruptly, keenly aware of how he is still aching and wet inside.

Absently, he cuddles closer to nose against the sun-warmed skin stretched over Viktor's clavicle, and is thoroughly distracted by the mindless, buzzing pleasure that's warming the embers of the banked fire low in his pelvis, as he rocks thoughtlessly against Viktor. 

Time spools out, like that, as Yuuri lazily luxuriates in this — in being a creature made entirely of sensation; slow, lazy sensation, sinking into pleasure for its own sake and not to any end. Time stretches out in this quiet weekend morning like taffy, like warabimochi, like it's pooling and eddying around their bed, Ogygia untouched. 

"Yu- _ah_ uri," Viktor rasps, rough and intimate into his ear. An ember sparks, and Yuuri hums in reply. 

Viktor makes to heave himself up, beneath Yuuri, and Yuuri imagines himself heavy, a leaden weight. Viktor's laugh is more a puff of air, lifting Yuuri's fringe briefly, before the abdominal muscles his cock is slotted nicely against clench briefly, and Viktor levers himself up on one elbow. 

Yuuri makes a complaining noise as he slides down and partially onto the bed, turns his face petulantly into Viktor's side. 

There's a hand, affectionate in his hair, and Viktor stretches over him to the bedside table. Yuuri hears the clink of a mug being picked up, the sound of Viktor swallowing, the clink of the mug against the glass top of their table. 

Then Viktor's sliding back down, rolling Yuuri over to press up behind him, and skimming a hand down to rest just shy of his cock. Viktor’s voice is clearer this time when he says, "Well now, where were you?"

Yuuri presses back into him, folds his left leg up to his chest, tilts his head back and sighs, eyes still closed, "I _want_..." 

He feels more than hears Viktor swallowing, definitely feels Viktor's stirring interest against him. 

There's fingers caressing the line of Yuuri’s back, then the meat at the base of Viktor's thumb brushing against his tailbone as Viktor's wrist turns, and cautiously probing fingers sink into Yuuri, easy as anything.

"Oh, fuck, you're -"

Yuuri slits his eyes open; Viktor looks — his eyes have blown wide and black, there's a flush on his cheeks. Yuuri feels drugged, limbs still sleep laden but nerves buzzing under his skin, a nascent, wild wanting rising to his surface. 

"I can still feel you in me," Yuuri hears himself say, thin and confessional. Viktor is warm around him; he wants Viktor warm _in_ him. "I want...more, again."

He thinks, as Viktor curses against his cheek, of how he’d taken Viktor into himself not twelve hours ago, the promise of a day off stretching out before them. He’d been greedy, voracious, let Viktor touch, kiss, suck his fill before turning the tables and pinning Viktor down underneath him. 

As Viktor reaches for more lube, even though Yuuri is _ready_ , is still slick and wet with Viktor and yesterday night's indulgences — when he'd sunk down on Viktor and Viktor had worshipped him with his cock, had pressed his hands and his head into the mattress and moaned prayers and profanities, staggering between Russian, French, English, as Yuuri had dragged himself up and plunged himself down on Viktor's cock, then chased the starburst of pleasure in the base of his spine with slow, circular grinds - despite this, despite the way he can feel his muscles desperately grasping for something to clench around, Viktor is still gentle and cautious with him, fingers spreading carefully warmed lube gently round the swollen skin of his rim before finally, _finally_ pushing in.

Yuuri exhales roughly, much like he had when Viktor had had enough of his riding and reached out to hold Yuuri in place the night before, fucking _up_ into Yuuri, hands stopping Yuuri from bucking the way he'd wanted to. He's wretched, this morning, he knows, and Viktor knows, judging by the soft laugh preceding the wet, open-mouthed kiss sucked into the tendon under his ear. It sends shivers straight down to the fire burning low in his belly. 

He tries reaching behind him, between them, to force the issue, but he's lethargically slow, even now, and Viktor easily catches his hand and presses it to the sheets. 

"Stay here," Viktor whispers, and with the fingers of his other hand, holds Yuuri apart for his cock.

Yuuri pants, waiting, but Viktor just - _pauses_ , and cold air is starting to unpleasantly insinuate its way into the heated space between their bodies, when finally, Yuuri feels the blunt pressure of Viktor pressing into him. He pushes back into it, feels with a thrill the way his body welcomes Viktor into him, the slick slide of Viktor, not fully hard yet, into him, and feels, giddily, almost like saying _okaerinasai_. 

"Fuck," Viktor's muttering, "Fuck, fuck, Yuuri, you -" 

" _Yes_ ," Yuuri tells him, flexing his hips, fucking himself onto Viktor like he always, always wants to; he'd live here always if he could, with the heavy weight of Viktor against his back; the long, lean line of his arm against him; the clasp of their fingers clutching at the sheets. Being filled, the smooth, unforgettable heat of Viktor inside him. Viktor's long, calloused fingers low on Yuuri's belly. His own cock, aching and leaving glistening trails on his belly, neglected because Yuuri wants, hazily, to come untouched. "Please, yes." 

His favourite part of having Viktor penetrate him while not fully hard is - just that, the sheer filthiness of feeling Viktor hardening within him, of Viktor shuddering against him and getting fucked deeper even when Viktor's balls are already making a valiant effort to join his cock inside of Yuuri. 

The quilt has been tossed off them, but Yuuri feels heated all over, and he's on fire inside. His muscles are clenching down on Viktor involuntarily and the way his rim catches against Viktor's cock on every withdrawal, the way his whole body is needy for it makes Yuuri feel heady, unashamed. The world has contracted to this: the sun-warmed cocoon of their bed; Yuuri’s barely aspirated gasps, the wet sounds of their bodies coming together, Viktor’s rough moans even as he fucks Yuuri with a steady thoroughness that belies that white-knuckled grasp he has on the sheets, over Yuuri's own fingers. 

"Vit-," Yuuri's voice breaks off, as Viktor shifts and presses in at a new angle. " _Ah!_ Da- _nn_ " Viktor grinds up against him at this angle in torturous thrusts, teeth worrying at the tender skin under Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri babbles _something_ , voice hitching over “Vit _ya_!” as the fire building low in his belly sweeps suddenly up and over him in a rolling wave, pleasure roaring along his nerves, and his cock jerks against his belly. He clenches down, hard, in wide-eyed surprise. 

"Yuuri," Viktor groans, reverent, and slams dizzyingly into Yuuri, teeth sinking into Yuuri's shoulder over an old bruise, and Yuuri feels that hot wetness he'd been craving fill him up again. He can't help but sigh, and then yelp in protest as Viktor withdraws unpleasantly quickly, leaving a cold draft against Yuuri's back as he scrambles for - _something_ in their side drawer.

"Yuuri," Viktor says again, but now in a completely different one: it's shit-eating, smug, and ... predatory. It makes Yuuri's toes curl. "You said something about ... wanting me in you forever?"

Yuuri turns his face, suddenly hot, into the sheets. He attempts to bury his whole self into the sheets. He can feel Viktor's come sliding out of him, an unpleasantly ticklish sensation. And then: Viktor's finger, gathering it up, another foreign, ticklish sensation against the inside curve of his thigh, and - he gasps - pushing it back into him. Yuuri whines, oversensitive and overwhelmed, involuntarily rubs himself against the comforter, as Viktor casually starts fucking his fingers into Yuuri, his come easing the way. 

"Yes, Yuuri?" Viktor asks, smugness curling around his words, fingers curling in Yuuri to make him pant against the sheets and writhe, wanton. 

In Yuuri’s field of vision, half obscured by the sheets, a wide, squat black plug appears. Viktor shakes it at him, and waits for Yuuri to nod, shakily, before it disappears from Yuuri’s sight again.

Then the fingers in his ass are withdrawn, Yuuri’s hips are pulled back until he’s bent, trembling, over his knees, and his ass is up in the air. Viktor’s holding his cheeks apart, thumbs hooked just inside Yuuri’s rim, and Yuuri moans. He feels ... he feels entirely at the mercy of Viktor's pleasure, and it makes him tingle all over. 

_More_ lube is drizzled onto him, and Yuuri’s about to make a bitchy comment about it when the plug is pressed against and into him in one smooth thrust. Yuuri collapses back down onto the bed, clenching and unclenching around the unyielding silicone inside of him that’s just short of enough, that’s holding him open and Viktor’s come in him. 

“I can’t,” he pleads, barely able to form the words. “Vitya, _please_.” 

“You can,” Viktor insists, smoothing a hand over the base of Yuuri’s spine. His voice is low, liquid heat, and saps any remaining strength from Yuuri’s muscles. Two fingers tap against where the flared base of the plug, and make Yuuri feel like he might twitch out of his own skin. “You’re so greedy today, Yuuri. I love it. Keep it in you for today, okay?”

Yuuri shudders, eyelids slipping shut. “T-the _whole_ day?”

He can hear the smile in Viktor’s voice: half-challenge, half-indulgence. “I believe in you.”

That, more than anything, more than the way a day whiled entirely away on pleasure pulls dizzyingly at his gut, makes Yuuri sigh in acquiescence and let Viktor roll him carefully over. In the drowning, lush kisses that follow, the morning stretches on.

**Author's Note:**

> * i don't actually mind paying my taxes. psa: pay your taxes, people!!!
> 
> the, uh, day of filth is outlined but i don't think i could possibly write it out
> 
> *jumps into the filth dumpster and lights it on fire*


End file.
